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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446801">The Powers That Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks'>Three_Oaks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oaksy's Prompt Game [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Superpowers, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Eventual Happy Ending, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Suicidal Thoughts, luther is a good friend, spies in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:48:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Benji discovers a new talent that changes his life.</p>
<p>Day 16: <i> Superpowers </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oaksy's Prompt Game [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji lit the dark kitchen of the safehouse up, light radiating away from his fingertips.</p><p>"Ethan, could you hurry up with the fuses?"</p><p>"Yes, sorry!"</p><p>A few seconds later, the lamps flickered on, illuminating the large room.</p><p>"Are you OK?" Ethan asked, still winded from running up the stairs.</p><p>"Fine, just tingly."  He shook his hand a few time, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.</p><p>"Is Ilsa already upstairs?"</p><p>"Yes, she said she wanted to get some rest before tomorrow."</p><p>"Good. I think I'll go for a shower, then." He stretched, his shirt revealing just a sliver of skin. Benji blushed a little.</p><p>"Do you want me to take a look at your ribs?"</p><p>"Thanks, but I'm all good already," Ethan answered with a smile. "You won't have to play nursemaid."</p><p>Fast healing, cutting Benji's dreams short again. </p><p>"What a relief. Hurry up with that shower, or I'll take your light away."</p><p>"No you won't," Ethan laughed, before leaving the room, Benji following him with his eyes until he disappeared upstairs.</p><p>He'd  been surprised too, when he'd found out Ethan's talent was fast  healing. He'd assumed it would be something like superstrength, or  resurrection. Definitely resurrection, seeing how well missions usually  went. No matter that there hadn't been a reported resurrection since  Jesus Christ, and even that was, delicately put, a matter of opinion.  But fast healing - it was about as common as being able to boil a kettle  with your mind. </p><p>Benji snapped his fingers to kill the light, and  went upstairs too. Not a bad talent. He'd spared what, five steps to  the light switch? And it had come useful more than once on mission. Bad  guys tended to shoot less well without light, even if if was only for  one minute or two. Well, at least the ones who didn't have night vision.  He hated those.</p><p>Ilsa was already in her bed, trying to catch a  few hours of sleep before they left. He took out his laptop, and started  typing away. He could never sleep just before a mission. Better put the  time to some use.</p><p>"Benji, if you don't stop making that noise, I  will stop your heart." Her voice was sleepy, and Benji didn't need to  see her eyes to know she was serious.</p><p>"Sorry, sorry!"</p><p>He grabbed his computer and went back downstairs, sitting down at the empty kitchen table. He wished he had taken tea with him.</p><p>Stopping  hearts. That was the kind of talent you that expected in their  profession. Rare. Useful. Deadly. Painful, for Ilsa. He'd seen how much  effort it actually took her to kill someone that way, how drained it  left her afterwards. But even for a few seconds, it was enough to  distract anyone and let her finish them some other way. She'd done it to  him, once, because he'd been curious how it felt. He wasn't keen to  repeat the experience. </p><p>He hadn't asked, either, if she'd  discovered her talent after she'd started working for the MI:6, or if  she'd been recruited because of it. Government liked to have people with  abilities like these well under their control. Whether they wanted it  or not.</p><p>"Are you alright?" Ethan laid a hand on his shoulder,  making him jump. His hairs were wet, and he was only wearing a towel  around his waist. </p><p>"Aren't you cold?" Benji said, staring. But just a little.</p><p>"A bit. I wanted to check on you." He smiled, gently.</p><p>"I'm fine.  You should go to bed before you catch death. I just can't sleep. "</p><p>"Like usual, then?"</p><p>"Like usual. Don't worry about me." </p><p>"Do you want me to stay with you?"</p><p>"Do you want me to shoo you to bed?"</p><p>"Alright, then. Good night, Benji." </p><p>Once  Ethan had left, Benji let himself smile, wide like an idiot, the warmth  in his chest spreading through him, calming his nervous brain, making  his heart beat fast. He was still filled with that same warmth when they  left for the meeting with Tennison, just before dawn.</p><p>They  cautiously walked in, Ethan in the middle, Benji and Ilsa by his side.  It was strange for a meeting like this to take place in an upscale  lawyer's best decorated office, filled with mahogany desks and tasteful  flower arrangements. He was more used to warehouses and sketchy alleys. </p><p>"Hann," Tennison said, extending his hand toward Ethan. "Do you have the keys?"</p><p>"My associate does," Ethan said. Benji unlocked the briefcase and presented its content to Tennison and his goons. </p><p>"The keys to fifty thousand Swiss account, as agreed upon."</p><p>Benji's  voice was firm. He was damn good at his job, no matter how many  sleepless nights it gave him. The keys were fake, made by his care  before they'd left. And, if everything went well, they would get them  very real intercontinental missiles plans.</p><p>"Do you have what we want?" Ethan asked.</p><p>"Do you think us untrustworthy, Mr Hann?"</p><p>"Of course not." He smiled. That smile always scared Benji a little.</p><p>"Then you won't mind if we take some precautions. Mr Gmür, if you will?" </p><p>Benji tensed. This wasn't part of the plan. He felt Ilsa discretely reaching for her gun. Ethan smiled wider.</p><p>"Mr Tennison. I'm sure there is no need for this."</p><p>"And  I'm sure there is no harm. Mr Gmür here is an employee of a bank I  won't mention, and it will only take him seconds to ensure that... no  mistakes were made." He smiled like a shark.</p><p>Cold sweat went  down Benji's back. Tennison was not supposed to have contact like these,  their intelligence report had made sure of it. His keys were good, but  they wouldn't hold up. Tennison had them eight to three, and light had  started streaming through the large windows. He cursed his useless  talent.</p><p>"Don't, Tennison," Ethan said, taking a step forward.</p><p>Tennison shot him in the head.</p><p>Blood sprayed over Benji's face, over his clothes, covering his glasses in a red mist. Ethan fell before he could catch him.</p><p>Ilsa pushed him out of the way of the next shot, taking out two men out  before they could get their guns out. He didn't even try to fight. He  just kneeled, and took Ethan's head into his hands, staring into empty  eyes. </p><p>"No. No. No!" He screamed.</p><p>The scream ripped through  him, tearing through his organs and his muscles, through his soul.  Nothing had ever hurt that much before. The pain overwhelmed him,  drowning every other sensation, every fear, every memory, seeping  throughout his being. He kept screaming.</p><p>***</p><p>"... as agreed upon." </p><p>The words left Benji's mouth as if they weren't his. The briefcase he’d been holding shattered to the floor.</p><p>"Your associate seems to be shaking, Mr. Hann. Is everything in order?"</p><p>"Of course." </p><p>Ethan  grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him upright. Benji felt vomit at  the back of his troath. He wanted to pass out. Ethan looked at him, his  eyes filled with worry. But alive. Benji sobbed.</p><p>"Mr Gmür here is  an employee of a bank I won't mention, and it will only take him seconds  to ensure that... no mistakes were made." Tennison said.</p><p>"Don't, Tennison," Ethan said.</p><p>Benji  pushed him to the floor, the shot exploding the plaster of the wall  behind them. Ilsa shot him before he could aim again, taking out two  other men before they could get their guns. Ethan scrambled back to his  feet, breaking the arm of one goon aiming at Ilsa, before stealing his  machine gun.</p><p>"Benji, Ilsa, let's go!" He said, shooting two more. They ran back to the elevator, dodging behind desks and shelves.</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he caught a man aiming a gun at his head. Ilsa squeezed her hand, and he collapsed.</p><p>They got to the garage unscathed, and drove off, tires screeching. </p><p>"Good reflexes," Benji!" Ethan said, looking at him with admiration.</p><p>Benji  wasn’t listening. He couldn’t control his breath, couldn’t control his  heart, couldn't get the image of Ethan's dead eyes out of his head.  Ethan, lying on his back, not breathing. Ethan, a gaping red wound on  his forehead. He puked down the seat.</p><p>"Benji, are you alright?"  Ethan stopped the car, carefully putting his arm around Benji's  shoulder. He took a tissue out of the glove box and cleaned most of the  mess from his shirt, his hands impossibly gentle. </p><p>Benji stared at  him. He was alive. He'd been dead, and now he was alive again, because  Benji had known what Tennison would do. He'd seen it happen before.</p><p>He'd turned back time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ethan half-dragged, half-carried Benji up the stairs, removing his soiled shirt before pushing him in bed, draping the blankets over his shivering body.</p><p>"Don't move. I'll get you some water."</p><p>"Ethan. No. Please... please stay."</p><p>He sat down next to the bed, his brow furrowed with concern. Slowly, he reached out for Benji's hand and took it into his own. Benji squeezed it, wishing never to let go.</p><p>"I watched you die," he said, the words escaping him in a strangled sob.</p><p>"You saved my..."</p><p>"Because I watched you die! You said, you said that thing, and then Tennison shot you in the head!"</p><p>Ethan lay his hand on Benji's forehead, checking for temperature.</p><p>"I don't have a fever! It wasn't an hallucination. You were dead."</p><p>Tears started streaming down his face and sobs wrecking his chest. Ethan pulled him close, his arms warm and safe around his chest, muttering words of comfort in his ears, stroking his hair. He didn't know how long he cried.</p><p>"Do you... Do you believe me?" he said, head nuzzled in Ethan's neck.</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"I turned time back."</p><p>"But... Sorry. I believe you. It's just..."</p><p>"What? One in a billion? Less? What are the odds of having a second talent?"</p><p>"About that much, I think."</p><p>Benji closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of Ethan's hand on his hair. Just a moment of peace.</p><p>"Maybe it was just a one-time thing. The trauma, or something. But if it isn't... Can you imagine what I could do?"</p><p>"Only one way to find out."</p><p>Benji sighed. His head was killing him.</p><p>"Can I sleep first?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>Ethan let him go, and got up.</p><p>"Ethan... Could you stay?"</p><p>"As long as you want me to."</p><p>He turned back, and lay down in Ilsa's bed. Benji listened to his breaths until he fell asleep.</p><p>***</p><p>The next morning, he was feeling much better. A nice cup of tea, some sleep and a good breakfast could do miracles. He didn't know if he'd ever stop thanking Ethan enough for finding Earl Grey, from that one brand he liked. The sun was streaming through the windows in the safehouse living room, and Benji was shivering with expectation.</p><p>"So, I'll throw the egg, and you'll try to catch it. Right?"</p><p>"Right. And either I can turn back time, or we make a huge mess."</p><p>"I trust you," Ethan grinned.</p><p>He threw the egg behind his shoulder. It splattered against the wall, yellow dripping down the white paint.</p><p>"Shit!"</p><p>Benji closed his eyes. Trying to remember what it had felt like. Not the pain, that wasn't what he was looking for. Not the fear, not the grief. Not the regrets, all that he'd never told Ethan and never would - wait. There was something, there. Not quite it yet, but he could feel his stomach turning, his being contracting.</p><p>It had been denial.</p><p> Refusal, pure and absolute, to accept what had happened. So strong that it had triggered him, made him do something he'd never done before, something he didn't even think possible. He seized that feeling, letting it surge through him.</p><p>The egg splattered against the wall, again.</p><p>"Yes! Yes!"</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"Do it again! I'll explain later."</p><p>Ethan took another egg, and threw it at the ceiling.</p><p>It took four tries for Benji to get it, between taking the right chair, not tripping on the carpet, and actually catching the egg, which was not as easy as it looked; on the third try, he'd just crushed it in his hand and put egg white everywhere.</p><p>He triumphantly put the egg back the carton, smiled from ear to ear, and passed out.</p><p>***</p><p>When he woke, Ethan was by his side. He was still wearing the same clothes, but more ruffled. He looked as if he hadn't slept.</p><p>"Ethan? How long has it been?"</p><p>"You slept for fourteen hours. How do you feel?"</p><p>"Better. Not nauseous anymore. "</p><p>He grinned.</p><p>"I did it."</p><p>"I can't believe how fast you were. I had a dozen eggs more.” He smiled. “Eggs were maybe not a great idea. How long did it take you to figure it out, with the light?"</p><p>"Six months until I could keep my fingers alight for more than a seconds, but at least a few years until I mastered it. I used to try taking the light at supper, it made my mom insane."</p><p>"Mine just started noticing I could run around after falling down a tree on the head."</p><p>"I'd have loved to see that. You must have been a terrible child."</p><p>"Of course not. In that case, I was trying to save a nest."</p><p>"I believe you." He hadn’t changed that much, had he?</p><p>They laughed, for a few seconds.</p><p>"It feels... Different. Easier. As if I'd woken up and realized I could run the 100 meters dash in six seconds, or lift a bus with two fingers. Except that those happen. Not often, but they do. But this..."</p><p>"I looked it up when you were asleep, and there hasn't been a recorded time manipulator since 1677."</p><p>"What happened to them?"</p><p>"She was burned at the stake."</p><p>"It scares me, Ethan. How easy it was. I'm not used to things working out like that, on the first try. I guess I'm not used to feeling powerful. Not like that."</p><p>"We’ll figure it out. All that matters is what you decide. What do you want, Benji?"</p><p>"I just want to stay with... To keep working with you. I don't want anything to change."</p><p>Ethan put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. Benji lost himself, for an instant.</p><p>"It doesn't have to, I swear."</p><p>"Have you told Ilsa?"</p><p>"No, but she knows that something happened. Do you want to tell her?"</p><p>"I trust her."</p><p>***</p><p>Benji and Ilsa were sitting down at the kitchen table, streaming mugs of tea in their hand.</p><p>"You need to be very careful, Benji," Ilsa said.</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"No, you don't. You have no idea what some people would do to get someone with that talent, to make them do what they want. No, it's not even simply some people. It's everyone."</p><p>She took a deep breath.</p><p>"I never told you, did I? How I found out about my talent. It was during my last year of medical school. I had a patient that was fibrillating, and I could stop it. I saved his life. I was so proud, I told everyone. My boss, my parents. It even made the news, I think. Six months later, I failed my final exam, my parents died in a car crash. I had nothing left. No one left. So when I was offered a job for the government, you can imagine how grateful I was."</p><p>She smiled, bitterly.</p><p>"And what can I do? Stop hearts. You can do anything. You could kill anyone, break into anything."</p><p>"I'm not going to tell anyone."</p><p>"Even so! How many impossible saves can you put on your incredible reflexes before someone figures it out?"</p><p>"I can't let Ethan die. Or anyone else."</p><p>"You will have to, Benji. I'm sorry."</p><p>***</p><p>"Can't sleep again?" Ethan asked.</p><p>Benji was sitting in the kitchen, the only light streaming from his computer screen, shining blue in the darkness. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Ilsa had said. He flicked his fingers, and a yellow spark shone for an instant, before disappearing again.</p><p>"Nervous?" Ethan smiled at him, and sat down.</p><p>"Why do you say that?"</p><p>"You always play with your fingers when you're nervous."</p><p>Benji sighed.</p><p>"I guess I am. What's going to happen, Ethan?"</p><p>"I don't know. But I promise I'll never let anything happen to you."</p><p>"I know you wouldn't," he answered.</p><p>Ethan would always protect him. He knew that it probably wasn't true, that Ethan wasn't all powerful, that one day he might not be there. And still, some days, it was what kept him alive. He trusted him. He-</p><p>"We could do something, if you want," Ethan suggested.</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>"I don't know. What do people do when they can't sleep?"</p><p>"You can sleep."</p><p>"But you can't. Let me do this, Benji."</p><p>He hesitated, for an instant.</p><p>"It would be nice... Maybe we could make some tea, sit on the sofa, and just chat?"</p><p>"I'd love that," Ethan smiled.</p><p>Three hours later, Benji feel asleep against Ethan's shoulder. Ethan rested his head against his, and closed his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji caught Ethan by the wrist, jerking him back onto the platform as he vacillated on the edge, his equilibrium thrown off by the punch he'd just taken in the face. Ethan caught a glance behind his shoulder at the stairs he'd nearly fallen on, ten feet below, before charging at Moser again. Not a deadly fall by any mean, but enough to bruise and break bones. His arm, to be exact. Benji had seen it happen. The familiar lurch of power ran through him. Nausea was starting to rise in his stomach, but he pushed it down. </p><p>Moser hit Ethan just above the stomach, punching the air out of his lungs and making him double up. He gasped in pain, scrambling back before he could be hit again. Benji turned time back.</p><p>“Below!” he shouted.</p><p>Ethan caught Moser’s fist, twisted his arm. Benji winced when he heard the sickening crunch of broken bones. Ethan kicked Moser in the knees, throwing him to the ground. He hit the floor hard. Ethan straddled him, trying to get the gun in Moser’s holster. Moser kicked him and turned them over, his hands squeezing Ethan’s neck. Before Ethan could react, Benji turned time.</p><p>“Put him on his stomach!”</p><p>When Moser landed to the floor this time, he was face down. Ethan grabbed his gun easily, before Moser could fight back. He jerked and threw Ethan off, making him drop the weapon. They wrestled, trying to get to the gun that was just a few inches out of their reach. Benji ran across the room, kicked it toward Ethan's open hand. And missed. Moser punched Ethan again, breaking his nose.</p><p>Benji turned time back. He kicked the gun again, this time reaching Ethan's hand perfectly. Ethan grabbed it and shot Moser before he could react. Moser collapsed on him, covering him in blood and what looked like brain matter, his weight pinning Ethan to the ground. Benji jumped to his side, and pushed the body off.</p><p>"Ethan, are you ok?"</p><p>He put a hand on Ethan's chest, feeling his breath pumping like a forge. No severe injuries, he'd made sure of that, but there was no way for him to prevent him from being exhausted. At least, none that he had found yet. Slowly, Ethan caught his breath and wiped the blood off his face, before putting his hand on Benji's.</p><p>"I'm ok. Thank you, Benji."</p><p>"Anything for you," Benji chuckled. Ethan didn't laugh, just closed his eyes and held Benji's hand tighter. </p><p>"And you? How do you feel?"</p><p>"I'm perfectly fine. It wasn't that much, today," he lied. He was fine. Of course he was, if Ethan was unhurt. </p><p>"Good," Ethan smiled.</p><p>***</p><p>Benji closed his eyes. The room was rolling around him, and the bed was swaying like a ship in a storm. He wished he had taken a bucket with him. </p><p>“Benji? Can I talk with you for a moment?”</p><p>He sat up too fast, and bit his tongue until he felt he could opening his mouth without puking. Ethan was standing next to the sofa, his hair wet from the shower and his t-shirt in his hand. </p><p>“Look at me.”</p><p>“Erm... You look good, Ethan.”</p><p>“Thank you, but that’s not the point. I have no bruise.”</p><p>“And? Do you want some?”</p><p>“Not especially. You said it wasn’t much today, Benji.”</p><p>“And it wasn’t!”</p><p>“Then why are you that pale? You look sick.”</p><p>“Thank you for the compliment.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to do that to yourself for me. I’m used to getting hurt.”</p><p>“And you don’t think that’s a problem? It’s my choice, Ethan, not yours.”</p><p>Ethan sighed, and sat down next to Benji. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, I just...”</p><p>“Worry for me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You don’t have to, Ethan. Now… Now, I can help you.”</p><p>“You’ve always helped me.”</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>Ethan turned to him and put a hand on his thigh. </p><p>“Please tell me how it is, for you.”</p><p>Benji looked away, trying to put the feeling into words.</p><p>“It feels... good. When you get hurt, I can take it away, make it disappear. But it’s not only that. You know, when you’re on a run, and your blood rushes, your muscle move perfectly and you feel like you’ll never have to stop, that you can nearly fly? It’s like that. I have power. I feel strong, really strong, for the first time in my life. And I want to use that strength.”</p><p>“When’s the last time you slept through the night, Benji?”</p><p>“Look, I never said it was perfect. But it’s better.” He bit his tongue again, and jerked when he felt Ethan’s hand on his hair.</p><p>“Would you feel better if we lay down?”</p><p>“Yes. Thank you.”</p><p>They rearranged themselves, Benji with his back to Ethan’s chest and his head on his arm. He closed his eyes. Ethan pulled him close, and he felt solid for the first time since he’d come back.</p><p>“Tell me, Benji,” Ethan said softly.</p><p>“What if it’s not enough? What if one day, you’re too far, and there’s nothing I can do?” The words stumbled out of his mouth, wrenching him back into the terror he’d been trying to push down for months.</p><p>“Then it won’t be your fault. I know the risks. If I die... Just be safe.”</p><p>“That’s not enough, Ethan.”</p><p>He took a deep breath, fighting the images in his mind.</p><p>“It’s not enough because I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen you get shot, I’ve seen you beaten so badly that you couldn’t walk, that you spat blood. I’ve seen you screaming, because you were just in so much pain. I’ve seen you die.” His voice wavered. “When I can make it disappear, it doesn’t matter. But if I can’t... All I’ll have are those memories.”</p><p>“What about those memories?”</p><p>Ethan ran his hand on his chest and rested his head against the nape of Benji’s neck. He could feel his breath, his chest rising and falling slowly and the warm air ticking his skin.</p><p>“We’ve had time. And I wish it will never stop. But if it does, don't forget this. Don't forget me."</p><p>"Never," he answered.</p><p>Again, Benji wondered if he should tell Ethan, tell him that he loved him. How much he loved him. He'd thought about it for years, fantasized about this moment, imagining it a thousand different ways. Ethan's reaction. Would he be happy? Embarrassed, angry? Sad that Benji had broken this unspoken thing between them, that thing that had grown so much that it filled his heart? He could say it, just to see. Turn back the time if Ethan didn't feel the same, pretend that it had never happened. He wanted to do it. But it felt wrong. Like if he were stealing that moment from Ethan, lying to him. He kept silent.</p><p>***</p><p>The door exploded in a firework of sparks and flames, the noise shattering the peace of the quiet night. Benji couldn't even get up from the sofa before a hand grabbed him by neck, pushing him down, pinning him. He turned time back, only to find the door exploding again; he'd barely had enough time to get to his feet, before they were on him, grabbing him, pushing him to the ground. He kicked and punched, even bit the dark shapes. It didn't work. He turned time again, this time shaking Ethan awake instead. Ethan got one hit before taking the end of a rifle to the face, knocked unconscious. Benji screamed. Turned the time back. Again, and again. Nothing changed. He wasn't fast enough. Again. Ethan, bleeding from his head. Ethan, screaming something he couldn’t hear at him. Again. Nausea overwhelmed him. Ethan always got hit. He tried again. There was nothing he could do. It was useless. He couldn't give up. Despair grew in his chest. He prayed for a miracle. It had happened once, why not twice?</p><p>He didn't know how much time passed until he collapsed, unconscious.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji woke up in a jolt. Pain was the first thing that came back to him, running from the too tight ropes around his wrists to his twisted back, to the nausea that threatened to pull him under. Then came fear.</p><p>They'd been taken. Ethan. </p><p>He twisted his neck, jerked, trying to pull off the blindfold around his head, to break the ropes holding him down, to throw the chair he was tied to to the floor. </p><p>"Calm down, now. There's no need for that." </p><p>A female voice, cold as ice and smooth like a knife to the heart. The blindfold was ripped away, and Benji winced at the sudden bright light. </p><p>He was in an empty room, in an unfinished high rise like there were so many here, abandoned after the last market crash. It was the middle of the night, the only illumination provided by a projector. Not even the moonlight shone through the windowless holes in the walls. Ethan was there, tied up like him and still gagged and blindfolded, but conscious. Benji breathed with relief. </p><p>"You're a very interesting man. An exceptional man, even."</p><p>There was something predatory in her tone, like a shark circling a prey or a child in front of a new toy they couldn't wait to take apart. Cold sweat starting trickling down his back. The woman was accompanied by two armed men.</p><p>"Randall Tennison. A brute, really. No finesse, no... raffinement. But useful. You can imagine my distress when I learned he'd been the tragic victim of a professional accident." She smiled. Nothing in her expression even remotely recalled distress. "A very peculiar accident. Most unlikely. You'll excuse my curiosity, but I absolutely had to find out the unhappy circumstances. And I found you."</p><p>She put a finger under his chin, her well-manicured nail digging into his skin as she forced his head upwards. They were painted bright red, as if she'd dipped them in blood.</p><p>"My new toy."</p><p>Ethan screamed into his gag, struggling to escape. The woman looked at him derisively.</p><p>"You see, I'm a businesswoman. I don't take ware if I don't have some kind of insurance over it. It is so much easier that way." She let him go, and walked to Ethan. Benji felt blood dripping from his wrist, the ropes digging into his flesh as he struggled in vain. She grabbed Ethan by the neck, and squeezed. </p><p>"No! No!" Benji screamed.</p><p>She released Ethan, who choked on air as he fought to breathe again.</p><p>"That was fast. I thought that someone of your profession would be... tougher." </p><p>There was a shade of disappointment in her voice. Benji felt even sicker.</p><p>"What do you want from me?"</p><p>"I want you to work for me. I have a special interest in people like you, people with rare talents. You could say I collect them, like beautiful butterflies. So many colors, so many shapes! But so fragile." She slapped him in the face, drawing blood where her ring had hit him. "We'll be together for a very, very long time."</p><p>Abruptly, she stepped away from him and clapped her hands twice. A young girl came into the room, her long blond hair tattered, hanging in front of her face like a curtain. She was so pale as to be diaphanous, more ghost than human. She couldn't have been more than thirteen.</p><p>"Daisy, those men here are my new guests. You know the rules, don't you? If you behave, I'll even give you a present."</p><p>She turned back to Benji.</p><p>"It's such a pity that we don't know each other, isn't it? Tell me your name."</p><p>"Michael Handlen."</p><p>The girl shook her head. The woman slapped him again, and Benji's head jerked back, pain radiating across his face.</p><p>"See, Daisy here is a very useful pet. I went through a lot of trouble to get her and make her... obedient. I'm sure you can guess why. So, let me ask again. What is your name?"</p><p>Benji felt despair rising through his chest.</p><p>"Iain Bowman."</p><p>The girl shook her head again. Another slap. Ethan screamed, fighting his restraints.</p><p>"Oh, I thought you were cleverer than that. I'm very disappointed. Let me explain this to you, now. If you lie to me again, I will start cutting pieces off your companion over there. Do you understand?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"There's the truth! Not that hard, was it? Your name, now."</p><p>"Benji Dunn." </p><p>"Don't sound so defeated! We still have so much to learn from each other. What are you? Arms dealer? Brokers? Or... something else, entirely?"</p><p>Benji couldn't answer. He couldn't tell her about the IMF, no matter what they did to him. But he could never let her harm Ethan.</p><p>"Hm. Not answering? I don't really care, anyway. I'm much more interested in this."</p><p>She ripped Ethan's gag and blindfold away.</p><p>"Benji, I'm so..."</p><p>She slapped him.</p><p>"Quiet."</p><p>"No!" Benji shouted.</p><p>He couldn't look away, his eyes locked to Ethan's. He could see the same despair in them, the same terror. And something else. The woman saw it, too.</p><p>"Interesting. Tell me, who is he to you? A colleague?"</p><p>"Yes." He prayed she would stop there.</p><p>"A friend?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"A lover?"</p><p>He started crying, unable to stop the tears burning a path from the corner of his eyes to his bruised jaw.</p><p>"No," he answered.</p><p>The woman looked at the girl. She nodded.</p><p>"That's disappointing. But you love him, don't you?" </p><p>"Yes." The words were ripped from his chest. He hadn't known that the mere act of speaking could hurt that much.</p><p>"Are you in love with him?"</p><p>"Yes!" He sobbed.</p><p>"Does he love you too?"</p><p>"I don't... I don't know."</p><p>"How tragic. Well, don't leave your little friend hanging. Is this a wonderful secret romance, or just a pitiful unrequited infatuation?"</p><p>Ethan didn't even look at her, as if he hadn't heard what she had said. As if the only thing in the world was Benji.</p><p>"I love you," he said softly. </p><p>Benji's last barrier shattered. Ethan loved him. Ethan loved him, and they'd wasted their time together. He couldn't breathe, the weight of the revelation pressing on his chest like a stone.</p><p>The woman laughed. </p><p>"Don't worry, Mr. Dunn. You'll see him again, intact, if your work is satisfactory."</p><p>Anger rose in him like a wildfire. She'd captured them. She'd hurt them. She'd stolen that moment from them. And nothing could erase that, not even him. He wanted to watch her die.</p><p>"You're a bit of a mystery to me, Mr. Dunn. What is your talent, exactly? Prescience? Luck? Visions? You'll be useful to me any way, but I like knowing what I own."</p><p>Benji cast a look at Ethan behind her. Imperceptibly, he nodded.</p><p>"This," Benji answered.</p><p>He took the light away, plunging the room in darkness.</p><p>He turned the light back on just in time to see Ethan kick a man in the throat, breaking his trachea and leaving him gasping on the floor. His broken wrists were hanging limply by his side. He needed time to heal, time they didn't have. He took the light again.</p><p>"Careful, Ethan!" he shouted. Ethan covered his eyes.</p><p>He gave light back, this time bright enough to blind everyone else for a few seconds. Ethan took the chance, and threw the other goon off the window. Hope welled in Benji's chest.</p><p>"Fascinating. In all of my years, it's the first time I have the chance of meeting someone with two talents. But deep down, I'm an egoist. If I can't have you, no one will."</p><p>The concrete under Benji's feet started shaking, harder and harder, dust and plaster falling all around him. The entire building was moving. A crack opened up, barely a foot away, slowly but surely making its way toward him.</p><p>Ethan ran to him. Benji wanted to scream to him to run, to leave him behind. He'd just opened his mouth when Ethan punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.</p><p>When he woke up, Benji was alone with the girl, who was huddled against the wall, her arms around her knees. Pain was splintering his head, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.</p><p>"Where's..." His tongue was heavy in his mouth, his words slurred. "Where's Ethan?"</p><p>"He took her with him." Her voice was light like a bird's song, shockingly out of place.</p><p>"What? Where?"</p><p>"Through the window."</p><p>"No. No!" He screamed until his voice was hoarse, until he lost consciousness again. This time, there was no miracle.</p><p>Next time he came to, the girl was standing a few feet away, staring at him with wariness.</p><p>Ethan was dead. He'd saved them both, killed the woman before she could bring the building down on all of them. He'd made sure that Benji couldn't stop him.</p><p>He started crying again.</p><p>"Are you a bad man?"</p><p>"No. I don't think so."</p><p>"Do you want to hurt me?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Alright."</p><p>She took a knife out of the belt of the man Ethan had killed, and  cut the ropes around his wrists.</p><p>"She took my mommy. Could you find her for me?"</p><p>No. He couldn't. Ethan was dead, and nothing else mattered. </p><p>The girl looked at him with sad, wide eyes.</p><p>"I'll try my best," he promised.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji walked along the street, wind blowing the freezing rain into his eyes, letting the cold through his damp coat. His eyes were fixed on the wet ground below, only lit up by the sliver of light coming from his fingers, but he was too lost in thoughts to avoid the puddle in the middle of his way.</p><p>"Shit."</p><p>He turned time back, walked the same 20 meters again, and avoided the puddle.</p><p>Benji didn't care about the darkness, or the cold. He could feel it, enough to know that he should have taken a scarf, but it was more a reflex than an actual thought. He just didn't care. It was as if it wasn't his body, going through the motion of life, its minor discomfort, hurting and yearning for sleep, for rest. He didn't care about much of anything, anymore.</p><p>Ethan had always cared, so much. About every person he could save, about those he couldn't, about  Julia and Luther and Ilsa. About him. </p><p>So it made sense, in a way, that Benji had stopped caring after Ethan had died.</p><p>Sometimes, he wondered if he hadn't died too. Or at least, the good parts of him. He didn't know what else was left. </p><p>Maybe it was because he was the one who should have died. It would have made sense: the woman wanted him, not Ethan. He was the one who had failed to prevent their capture, over and over again. It had been him who had been powerless, when she tried to kill them. It should have been him.</p><p>It had been three months, now. Three months he'd spent looking for Daisy's mother, because he didn't know what else to do. Because he owed it to her. Because it was the right thing to do, because it was what Ethan would have done. He'd gone underground, really underground, for the first time in his life. He'd put for a three weeks holiday he'd never come back from, so there was a good chance he'd been fired from the IMF. He'd said goodbye to Luther, and Ilsa. Well, he hadn't, because they would have tried to stop him. But he'd seen them before he'd left. It had been torture, without Ethan.</p><p>Benji reached the end of the path, and stopped right before the entrance of a neglected courtyard. Behind it was an abandoned hotel, its windows boarded up on the lower floors, and broken above, the paint coming off in sheets where it hadn't been covered by graffiti. It had been shut after the owner had been condemned for fraud in the seventies, from what Benji had read. And now, it was used by human traffickers. There was only one entrance left, through the cellar door that had been used for deliveries. Easy to guard, hard to break into. He cast a glance behind the corner. Especially with the two guards standing in front of the doors, warming their fingers on a fire. One small, burly one, a taller one that looked mean as a snake.</p><p>"Hello, boys. Tell me, are you armed?" he shouted at them.</p><p>"What the fuck?" Snake Guy shouted, reaching into his coat and grabbing a machine gun. Right. </p><p>Benji turned time back, and found himself again right outside the courtyard. Two men, armed, one faster to react than the other. Rain and wind loud enough that he could get close if he was quiet, but the fire was a problem. He didn't know how to explain it, exactly, but fire was alive, unpredictable, unlike any electrical light. Taking light away from a fire needed a lot of concentration, and left him with a splitting headache and a painful prickling all over his body more often than not. </p><p>Well. He could do this. </p><p>He took a deep breath, and drew the fire's light away, trying to catch it in his fingers and wrap it in his hand. He struggled for a few seconds, before he could grasp it; then, it was as if he'd been pulling on a loose thread to undo a sweater at once. He felt the familiar pain riding up his arm, and ignored it. The fire kept burning, but in darkness. </p><p>Shouts of surprise arose from the courtyard. He ran in, as quietly as he could, knife in one hand. The light came back to the fire before he'd reached half of the distance.</p><p>"Fuck!" </p><p>He turned time back, just an instant after the first bullet had pierced his chest. That time, he slit their throat before they knew he was there.</p><p>It took him three tries to find the guards room, and five more to deal with all of them without getting grievously hurt. The first guard always ducked to the left when  he saw Benji, the one in the sofa actually survived the first bullet to the chest and shot at him again while he was killing the one standing left of the door. That had hurt. He was pretty sure he would have died without his power. With it, it was just one more bad memory. Once he'd killed them all, he nearly rewinded again just to avoid getting that huge splatter of blood on his coat, then decided he was being ridiculous. </p><p>Benji searched the building carefully, looking for any signs of recent occupation. The dark rooms of the hotel were littered with dirty mattresses and abandoned clothes, water dripping from leaking pipes onto the moldy floor. There was no one there. Benji wanted to scream.</p><p>He wanted to burn the whole building down, throw it to the floor like the woman had. Three months, and no sign of Daisy's mother, just cold trails of human traffickers he was always too late to stop, again and again. The man who turned time back, always too late. He laughed. </p><p>He went back to the guard room, regretting not having left one of them alive. How long had it been? At least five minutes. Useless. On his best days, he could go back nearly a minute, at most, and even that left him puking for hours. What a wonderful, useless talent.</p><p>He grabbed everything that looked remotely useful. Nothing much. Papers, all the guards' phones, one computer that he couldn't turn on. He'd look at them later. He caught a last glance at the room.</p><p>Red nail polish. </p><p>There was a bottle of red nail polish on the counter. </p><p>He grabbed it, opened it. It was fresh, only barely used. He let one drop fall out, and remembered he had to breathe.</p><p>It was nothing. It was probably nothing. But it was the exact same shade as the woman's nail had been, that blood red that looked as if she'd dipped her fingers in someone's throat. </p><p>He clenched the bottle so hard he thought he might crush it.</p><p>If she was alive...</p><p>If she was alive, then maybe so was Ethan.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji sat in an old, broken up rental car. He hadn't slept in 30 hours, not since he'd found the red nail polish. Maybe it was proof that the woman was alive, that there was a chance Ethan was alive too. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the traffickers had painted their prisoners’ nail, made them up to get a better price. Maybe it had been a present to a girlfriend that would never receive it. Hell, maybe one of the guards wore it.</p>
<p>He was a fool to hope.</p>
<p>Benji had sat there for three hours already, hadn't had the strength to go out and walk up to the house. Knock on the door. Because then, he'd know. And the longer he waited, the more certain he was that he'd just been desperate enough to seize whatever he could as a sign. Like a man hearing voices in the wind because he couldn't bear the silence.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again if it was nothing more.</p>
<p>Or maybe he was wasting time, and Ethan was alive somewhere, alone, because Benji was too scared to come find him.</p>
<p>He left the car, jumped up the stairs, and knocked on the door.</p>
<p>"Benji. Where the hell were you?" Luther said, catching him in a hug as soon as he'd opened the door.</p>
<p>Benji didn't answer.</p>
<p>"Come on in."</p>
<p>They sat down in the living room, Luther’s mouth pursed with worry. And anger, Benji noted.</p>
<p>"You're not there to apologize for disappearing without a trace, are you?" Luther said.</p>
<p>He shook his head.</p>
<p>"I found this. What can you tell me about it?"</p>
<p>Luther took the bottle, rolled it between his fingers a few times, feeling its shape. Reading it.</p>
<p>"It belongs to a woman. Cruel one, but refined. Powerful. Wherever you found it, that place was hers. Made her a lot of money."</p>
<p>"When? Just tell me when," he begged.</p>
<p>"Recent. Less than a month."</p>
<p>Benji nearly collapsed.</p>
<p>"What does it mean, Benji?" Luther asked, voice pressing.</p>
<p>"I've got to go. Thank you for your help," Benji said, getting to his feet.</p>
<p>"No. You don't get to do that. I lost Ethan, too. And then I lost you. You don't get to do that to me."</p>
<p>His tone was categorical. Hurt. Benji felt a sting of regret.</p>
<p>"It means that Ethan may be alive. And the longer I'm here, the longer he's out there."</p>
<p>"How long since you last slept, Benji?" Luther sighed.</p>
<p>"Not that long!"</p>
<p>"Oh, is that true? You won't find Ethan if you're dead from exhaustion, Benji. Spend the night there, we'll leave in the morning."</p>
<p>"Alright. Thank you, Luther."</p>
<p>After a few hours of sleep, he slipped out of the house. He'd already nearly gotten Ethan killed. He couldn't do the same to Luther.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>One month. It took him one month more to find anything else than smoke and lies about the woman. And every minute was a minute Ethan was her prisoner. He hadn't let himself consider the alternative.</p>
<p>When he dreamed of Ethan, he had a dead man's eyes.</p>
<p>Marion Ayraud, fifty three. Heir to a family that had made its fortune in Algeria and disappeared from the public eye after the liberation, as far as he could tell to start what had been a middling drug business after dilapidating their assets. She'd been the one who had turned it into one of the world's most successful, and most discreet, human traffickers. She'd made providing individual with rare talents and the leverage needed to use them her specialty, working for criminals and governments alike. More governments than he thought possible, and he knew very well how ruthless they were. It made him sick to his stomach. A monster, working for monsters.</p>
<p>After another month of useless search had gone by, he started seeing Ethan's face when he closed his eyes. Dead. Or dying, just alive enough to tell him that he knew it was Benji's fault.</p>
<p>She was careful. So careful that the IMF had never heard of her. Or maybe they had, and she was just too useful to lose. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But not everyone who dealt with her was.</p>
<p>He spent the next three weeks just reading the news, incident reports, insurance claims, anything he could get his hands on that would indicate the presence of people with talents too unusual to be found in the same place. It was a chance, really, that pyromancers were about as frequent as teeth in a hen's mouth. Two of them had burned down several shops whose owners had refused to pay for protection in Catania. Two boys, one from Izmir and one from Hanoi, both from middle class families, with promising future and no reasons to travel across the world to join the Cosa Nostra. No reason, except that their family had been brutally murdered. Emre's mothers body had never been found, nor had Manh' sister.</p>
<p>He broke into Biagio's hideout and killed whoever refused to run. The boys hadn't been too eager to fight, not after he'd shown them pictures of their mother and sister, safe. He'd taken all the computers and paperwork, and left them the money. He didn't need it.</p>
<p>From that, it had been a few weeks of electronic tracking, combing through financial records and emails, following her track like a bloodhound on a trail. He'd find her. He knew he would.</p>
<p>He was terrified he'd find Ethan as he could only picture him anymore. Dead. Cold, eyes empty, staring at him.</p>
<p>He was the one to blame.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Le Havre wasn't a bad place to have a base, for someone in Ayraud's business. A major port, many ships coming from all across the world. As many opportunities to hide money, and merchandise. He'd figured she'd keep her assets close. She didn't seem the kind of person who'd trust her wealth to anyone else.</p>
<p>Benji had laughed when he'd seen her house. It was perfectly tasteful, a <em>hôtel particulier</em> that must have cost a fortune, and more. A beautiful home for horrid deeds, bought by selling misery and blood. He wanted to tear it down, stone by stone.</p>
<p>He had everything. He had the plans of her house, and the basement it was attached to by a long tunnel, where she was keeping her prisoners. He had her calendar, her timetable down to the last details. He had the names of the guards on every shift, and the faces of those who were drunk and slow on the trigger after the first glass of white. He had a picture of Daisy's mother. He had nothing of Ethan.</p>
<p>Marion Ayraud was a precise woman. At eight that evening, she'd be in her office in the veranda overlooking the carefully manicured garden, finishing the contract for her next deal with the Sudanese junta. There would be two men outside her door, one in front of the window. The alarm was deactivated, as were all safety systems. He took a deep breath, loaded his gun, and walked into the open garden.</p>
<p>It took him a while to time his movement to the guard looking away, closing his eyes, or sneezing, but he got close enough to kill him without a noise. He forced a window to get into the hall leading to her office just as the guards were leaving their shift, and stabbed them before they could even notice he was there. He carried their body to the ground, staining his hands with blood. There was a time when he'd hated himself for that.</p>
<p>Benji slipped into Ayraud's office, softly closing the door behind him. She didn't even seem surprised.</p>
<p>"So nice of you to join me," she said, mockingly.</p>
<p>"Where's Ethan?" His voice was trembling. He hated it.</p>
<p>"You don't look very well. Have you had trouble sleeping?"</p>
<p>He pointed his gun at her head.</p>
<p>"Where is he?" he shouted.</p>
<p>"You seem very optimistic that I kept him alive. Why would I have?"</p>
<p>"Because you want me. And you need him for that."</p>
<p>He sounded desperate. He was desperate.</p>
<p>"I wanted you five month ago," she laughed.</p>
<p>"I know he's alive. You don't give up that easily."</p>
<p>"Well, you're right. And neither does he."</p>
<p>Cold sweat started drenching the back of his shirt. He pushed Ethan's face away from his mind. Dead, dead.</p>
<p>"Where's Ethan?" he asked, again. The gun was too heavy in his hand. He was shaking.</p>
<p>She ignored him again.</p>
<p>"You see, you're a very hard man to find, Mr. Dunn. It wasn't easy the first time, not by any way, but... let's just say that I have a few good friends among your people. But this time! You gave me a very hard time."</p>
<p>Marion Ayraud smirked.</p>
<p>"So of course, I had to give your friend a hard time. You can't say he's not loyal. He never said anything."</p>
<p>Benji felt his heart stop.</p>
<p>"I'm very thankful for his talent, by the way. I have to say it was very useful to me that he's such a fast healer. Otherwise, it takes quite some work to keep someone alive."</p>
<p>He shot her in the face.</p>
<p>Then, he turned time back, and killed her again. And again.</p>
<p>He hurled on the Persian carpet.</p>
<p>For the first time, he asked himself if it would have been better if Ethan had died, that day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>With my eternal thanks to Snovyda for helping me with this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji walked along the dark tunnel, blood dripping from his hand onto the rough concrete. A blue neon was flashing at odd intervals, illuminating the basement in an implacable glow. Dirt. Blood. A body, a few meters ahead. He'd killed them all.</p><p>He glanced through the first door on his right, lighting the cell with the light emanating out of his fingertip. Bodies on the floor. One of them started screaming in a language he couldn't understand.</p><p>Ethan wasn't there.</p><p>He turned back, plunging the room in darkness again. The screaming turned into begging. He'd help them. But he had to find Ethan first. </p><p>Two cells, then eight, then twenty five. All full. He went deeper underground. If there was a hell on earth, that was it.</p><p>The stairs didn't go any lower. He stared at the wall where they should have been, blindly. That was it. The last floor. If Ethan wasn't there, he'd just killed everyone who could find him. He wasn't sure he'd have the strength to climb those stairs back up if he didn't find him.</p><p>He checked how many rounds he had left.</p><p>He pushed the door of the first cell open. It was unlocked. Empty, like the next one. Like the one after that. </p><p>He pressed his palm on the cold metal surface of the last door, unfeeling, unthinking. </p><p>It didn't move.</p><p>He tried again. He slammed the hand with both hands, the echo reflecting along the tunnel, punched it until his fists bled. </p><p>His fingers were shaking when he rose them up to the hatch.</p><p>One shape in the darkness. </p><p>Black hair, kneeling, arms chained on the wall above his head.</p><p>He raised his head to face the blinding light.</p><p>Ethan.</p><p>Benji fell to his knees.</p><p>He took his lock pick out of his pocket, let it slip out of his hands. He didn't bother picking it up. He grabbed his gun and shot the lock three times, and kicked the door open.</p><p>Ethan was staring at him.</p><p>His skin was dirty and his hair matted, falling below his chin in graying, greasy strands. His beard hadn't been shaved in at least several weeks. </p><p>Benji had never seen him like that. But that didn't matter, this wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed by a good razor and a while under a hot shower. He'd be back to normal in no time.</p><p>"Ethan? I'm here, now. I'll get you out of there."</p><p>Ethan kept staring at him with empty eyes. </p><p>He didn't seem injured. Not anymore, at least. Benji wished he'd killed Ayraud a few times more.</p><p>He unfastened Ethan's left hand, then the right. He fell to the ground. Benji kneeled at his side, draping a hand across his bare back.</p><p>"It's going to be alright, I swear." </p><p>Gently, he turned Ethan on his back and put a hand on his face, running his fingers along his much too thin skin.</p><p>For the first time in month, he smiled. Ethan was alive. He'd found him. There was no words for the relief coursing through his veins, through his entire body. It was over, at last. The nightmare would stop, Ethan would heal, they would live again. He sobbed. </p><p>"I love you," he said, voice strangled by the months of despair and guilt. Finally.</p><p>Ethan punched him in the face, so hard he fell on his back. Before he could understand what was happening, Ethan was straddling him, hitting him again. His skull smashed against the concrete floor, leaving him dizzy. </p><p>Ethan pulled his arm back again. His eyes weren't empty, not anymore. They were full of hatred.</p><p>Of course. Ethan had been tortured, for month, with not even the relief of death, because of Benji. They'd broken him, only to let him heal and break him again. They'd starved him, and humiliated him, torn into his flesh and shattered his bones. Because of Benji. </p><p>Of course he'd hate him. </p><p>Benji closed his eyes before his fist broke his nose, blood flooding in his mouth and down his chin, the nauseating crunch of the cartilage resonating in his skull, followed by blinding pain. He screamed.</p><p>The next hit caught him in the temple, darkness invading the side of his vision. </p><p>Ethan was going to kill him.</p><p>He deserved it. He wanted it.</p><p>He looked at Ethan, one last time, at his eyes that had been so kind when he'd smiled at Benji, at the lips he'd dreamed of kissing. He hoped he would find peace.</p><p>Forgive him.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Benji said. It hurt to speak. Ethan had broken his jaw. He ran his tongue against his teeth, finding two missing.</p><p>"I'm so sorry."</p><p>Tears drew lines across the bloody mess of his face.</p><p>"Just... Please save the others. Daisy's mom. It's not her fault. She didn't want to help. She's a sweet girl. She deserves her mum."</p><p>Ethan put his hands around his neck, and squeezed. </p><p>Benji hoped it would be quick. It wouldn't be painless. He craved the pain.</p><p>His leg spasmed. He struggled against Ethan, against the burn in his chest, against the growing darkness. </p><p>He lost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear I have an explanation</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It hurt.</p><p>Benji couldn't think of why, or how. It just hurt, so much. His head felt as if it had been crushed, as if his brain and his mind and everything was going to leak out of it. As if he was broken.</p><p>He passed out again.</p><p>The next time he woke up, he managed to hold on to consciousness long enough to notice he was being moved. Every motion made the bones in his jaw rub against each other. He wondered if he was going to die. He couldn't remember why that didn't scare him.</p><p>Someone was shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes. One of them, at least. The other eyelid he couldn't move. From experience, he knew it was too swollen. Or maybe he had brain damage. He closed his eye again. He was just too tired.</p><p>Shaking again, more insistent.</p><p>He opened his one good eye, trying to focus his gaze. The light was too bright, everything was blurry. The room was moving around. He wanted to puke.</p><p>"That man, is he going to kill us?"</p><p>An anguished voice. Not fear. Determination. The voice of a woman who would do anything to survive.</p><p>He couldn't see very well, but he didn't need to. Margaret. Daisy's mom. </p><p>"I can't die. I won't die. I have to see my daughter."</p><p>He wanted to tell her that she would see Daisy again. That she had grown so much, that she laughed at her foster family's cat and told it so many tales. That she'd made him promise he would bring her mum back. That she loved her so much. That Ethan would never hurt her, that he would fight for her and finish what Benji had been too weak to do. That he was a good man. That he loved him.</p><p>But he couldn't.</p><p>He closed his eye.</p><p>Vibrations. Cool metal under his cheek, making the ache just a bit more bearable. A big jolt that nearly sent him rolling backward, the momentum pressing his back against a wall, the roar of the engines deafening. They were moving. He felt nausea rising in his chest and he shut his eye, hoping that the darkness would take him again. The pain was gnawing at his brain, at his mind. His throat was sore, he couldn't breathe. Lane. He'd been so scared. He'd fought so hard when the rope has crushed his trachea, burning itself into his skin, stealing his breath away. He'd fought for Ethan. Had Lane hurt him again? No. Lane was gone, he was gone. Ethan had made sure of that. He'd promised. </p><p>Images rose from the depth of his mind, unbidden. Memories. He didn't want to look, but there was no escape, he couldn't wake up.</p><p>He was already awake.</p><p>Ethan, hung by his arms to the walls of a dark cell. Ethan on the floor, broken. Yes. That was what happened. He'd been too late. Ethan's fist, shattering his jaw. Ethan's eyes, empty of everything but hatred. Ethan's hands around his neck.</p><p>He puked.</p><p>Something cool on his face. A cloth, dipped in water, cleaning away the crusted puke. Gently. A kind hand holding his head, green eyes looking into his. He wished it would never stop. The cloth brushed against his jawbone, sending a lightning of pain through his body. He passed out.</p><p>Ethan was sitting on the floor across the plane, resting his head on his knees. For the first time, Benji noticed that he was missing the index and the middle finger from his right hand.  Ayraud had probably wanted to test whether he could regrow missing limbs. Which he couldn't. He wanted to scream. He had done this.</p><p>"Ethan," he mumbled through his swollen jaw, tongue heavy. </p><p>"Shut up." </p><p>Ethan didn't move, didn't look at him.</p><p>"I'm so sorry. I'm so..."</p><p>"If you don't shut up, I'll gag you."</p><p>His voice was cold, clinical. Detached. It didn't sound like Ethan. Ethan's voice was warm, caring. It made Benji's heart flutter. Not anymore. Benji cried until he slipped out of consciousness.</p><p>He woke up in a dark room filled with cardboard boxes. A storage room, somewhere. His hands were tied behind his back to a pipe running along the concrete wall. The blue neon light streaming from the ceiling made his head hurt, and even closing his eye didn't let him escape it. He wished he could turn it off, but he didn't remember how. He could barely hold onto the one memory that kept him sane, that explained what had happened. He'd failed Ethan. He'd caused him to be captured. He'd left him for dead. He'd let him be tortured. He'd been late, late, too late. So it made sense. Ethan hated him, wanted him dead. That was fair.</p><p>He didn't know how long they'd traveled, or how much time had passed, but the writing on the boxes was in English, as far as he could tell. The letters were swimming, coming in and out of focus. A concussion, a bad one. If he didn't get his jaw and his nose set soon, they would have to be broken again. </p><p>It didn't matter. He wasn't going to live. </p><p>Margaret wasn't there. Ethan had probably found his phone and his computer, and then he wouldn't have had much trouble finding Daisy. Of course reuniting them was the first thing he'd do. He hoped that they would be happy. That it wasn't too late, for them.</p><p>The door opened.</p><p>Daisy came in, her long blond hair now tied in a braid at the back of her head. She wasn't pale, not anymore. Her cheeks were a healthy pink, the color of long afternoons playing in the cold wind and warm evenings at home. </p><p>"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your mom?" Benji asked, struggling to form the words.</p><p>"My mom is sleeping. She's very tired. So I thought I could come and see you."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>She opened her mouth to answer, before closing it again. She looked scared. Benji wished he hadn't said anything. She'd been through enough, she didn't need him to come and hurt her more. Or maybe she blamed him, too? He'd been too late. He'd...</p><p>"What is your name?" Daisy asked, barely a whisper. </p><p>She twisted her hands, waiting for his answer.</p><p>"Benji Dunn." </p><p>She jumped into his arms, hugging him with all the strength of a twelve years old. It hurt, but he didn't mind. </p><p>"Thank you for saving my mum." </p><p>She got back up, smiling widely.</p><p>Benji tried moving his head, and groaned. Daisy's smile faltered.</p><p>"Don't be too angry at him. She did that to me too, with my mom. It was awful."</p><p>She waved him goodbye.</p><p>"Come visit us soon!"</p><p>He didn't have the strength to parse what Daisy had said. It didn't matter.  Ethan would come back, he would kill him. He wouldn't have to think anymore, to remember what he'd done to Ethan. Ethan didn't want his apologies. All he could do for him was die. He would gladly do it. </p><p>The hours passed. His head cleared enough for him to remember how to take the light, which made his headache nearly bearable. He waited. </p><p>The door opened again. The light switch clicked. Benji didn't rise his head. </p><p>"Could you give the light back, Benji?" Ethan asked, his voice unsteady.</p><p>Blue light flooded the room again. Ethan let out something that sounded like a sob. </p><p>"Benji, I need to..."</p><p>Was he having second thoughts? Benji couldn't do it, couldn't face him. He wanted it to stop. </p><p>"Just do it."</p><p>Ethan kneeled next to him, a knife in his hand. From the corner of his eyes, he saw that his face was shining with tears.</p><p>Benji closed his eyes.</p><p>The knife slashed the ties around his wrist. </p><p>"What..."</p><p>Ethan stood back up.</p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said. </p><p>Benji looked into his eyes, finally. He looked as if he was being torn apart. </p><p>Before he could say anything, he turned and left the room, leaving Benji alone, again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji stared at the wall. Four weeks. It had been four weeks since Ethan had left him, alone in a storage room, with injuries he still couldn't leave alone, feeling the wires in his jaw, moving his teeth until he was rewarded with a bolt of pain that morphine couldn't entirely dull. Luther had barged in, found him crying so hard that the paramedics had given him a sedative when they had arrived, a few minutes later. Concussion. Broken jaw. Broken nose. A few missing teeth. He'd listened to the diagnoses, the recommended treatment plans, the pointed questions about how he'd been so badly hurt. Did he want them to call the police? Did he feel safe? Did he want to talk to a psychologist, a chaplain? Could they call someone, a partner, maybe? This one had made him laugh. The voices of the doctors, of the nurses, had turned into a drone he couldn't get himself to follow. He'd said yes, and no, and signed his name where Luther had pointed. He'd complied with everything, taken his shirt off when they'd asked, presented his arm so they could take a blood sample, given the light back even when its glow was unbearable. He hadn't slept. Memories had turned into dreams into nightmares, into long days without escape. He'd stared at the wall. </p><p>Where is Ethan? Luther had asked.</p><p>He'd stared at the wall. He hadn't known. </p><p>They'd given him a pad after wiring his jaw shut. His hand had lain motionless on the white, rough sheets of his hospital bed.  </p><p>What had happened?</p><p>He hadn't known either. </p><p>Who had done this to him?</p><p>This he'd known. On the crisp white paper, he'd written a single word.</p><p>Ethan.</p><p>Luther had taken his head into his hands.</p><p>Benji had kept staring at the wall.</p><p>A month. A month, and he still couldn't make what had happened fit in his head. They had been happy. At least, he thought they had been. He and Ethan, against the world. Holding each other like lovers, except they weren't. Scared, but not scared enough. Not scared of the right things. Why hadn't he told Ethan that he loved him? He couldn't remember. The capture. Ayraud's hand around Ethan's neck. Daisy's voice, telling him that he was gone. The grief that had felt like emptiness, because there was nothing left. The mad hope, the mad rage. The fear. Hurt, Ethan had been hurt. The blood on the white wall behind Ayraud's head when he'd shot her, the wild joy he'd chased, over and over. Then, Ethan. Senseless, futile hope, and despair. Resignation. Ethan's hands around his throat. Relief that had vanished when he'd woken up. Pain, pain that wouldn't stop. Daisy's cryptic words. Ayraud had done this to her, he shouldn't be too angry. Ethan's face, contorted by guilt. His apology that had sounded like a farewell.</p><p>Luther had said he'd called him, told him that Benji was hurt, that it was his fault. That he couldn't stay. That he had to go.</p><p>Benji didn't understand. </p><p>The door opened, and Luther came in. Benji closed his eyes.</p><p>"I know you're not sleeping," Luther said, sitting on his usual bedside chair with a sigh.</p><p>Benji looked at him. He'd thought that his method to avoid questions he couldn't answer and worried glances had worked better than that. Maybe Luther had just been merciful.</p><p>"I spoke with your doctor, they're letting you out tomorrow. Since your flat was seized last October and you don't have a job, I thought I could let you stay with me. Only until you get back on your feet, so don't start complaining."</p><p>Benji wanted to refuse, to say he could cope on his own. But the truth was that he didn't know where he'd go.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Luther smiled with relief. Benji was sure he'd have dragged him home if he had to, but he'd spare him the trouble.</p><p>A week later, and Benji was staring at a different wall. This one had a tasteful gouache painting of flowers, wallpaper he was sure he'd seen at his great aunt's, incongruous and terribly comforting. There was a book between his hands, but he had given up after reading the same sentence eight times without understanding a word of its meaning. Letters had stopped swimming around, but he still couldn't make sense of them. He wondered what was wrong with him.</p><p>"Benji, you ok?" Luther asked through the door.</p><p>It had been nice, not having to speak. </p><p>"Yes, thank you," he managed to answer.</p><p>"Can I come in?"</p><p>He hesitated.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Luther stepped in the guestroom and sat on the bed by Benji's side.</p><p>"How's the book?"</p><p>"I don't... I'm not sure."</p><p>"How are you, Benji?"</p><p>"I'm fine." A robotic answer. He knew it sounded as fake as it was.</p><p>Luther sighed.</p><p>"You're barely eating. You're not sleeping. And don't bother lying, I know you aren't. And I wish that I  thought that you just need more rest, but I don't."</p><p>Benji avoided his gaze. </p><p>"What do you want, Benji?"</p><p>"Ethan," he answered, before he could stop himself. Before he could think. </p><p>"Really? Even after what he did to you?"</p><p>"Daisy said Ayraud had done something to him. Maybe she brainwashed him. Maybe..."</p><p>"Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't."</p><p>"He didn't kill me! He wanted to at first, but then something changed. He stopped choking me, and he called you."</p><p>"How do you know he won't try again?"</p><p>"I don't, but..." </p><p>"Everyone has a breaking point. Even Ethan. I love him like a brother, but no one can take an infinite amount of pain."</p><p>"Do you think he hates me, then?" </p><p>The question that had been torturing him. </p><p>"I don't. Ethan would never hate you. All I'm saying is that he may not be fully himself, right now."</p><p>"I don't care. It's my fault, anyway."</p><p>"No. It's not. It's that woman. She's the one who did this to Ethan. Not you."</p><p>"No, but..." Benji started. He wanted to argue. She'd wanted him, because of his talent. He'd been the one who'd failed to prevent them from being taken, the one who hadn't been able to fight, the one who had been too late, over and over again. </p><p>He saw her cruel smile again, before he'd killed her.</p><p>He started crying.</p><p>Luther put a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>"It's not your fault, Benji," he repeated, like a mantra. </p><p>Not his fault. It wasn't his fault. He could nearly believe it. Just as he nearly could believe that Ethan didn't hate him, that there was an explanation. He held on to Daisy's words like a drowning man held to a buoy. Or like a hanging man grasped his rope.</p><p>"I need to see him. I have to. I can't... This can't be the last time I see him."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Luther sighed.</p><p>"He called me. Three days after I found you. He wanted to know if you were going to be alright. I told him that he'd have to come and see for himself, and he hung up. But you could probably trace the call." </p><p>Benji thanked him. Once he was alone again, he took the computer that Luther had lended to him, more grateful that he could ever say. </p><p>When Luther had made him promise not to go alone, he'd said yes. </p><p>He left in the middle of the night. Again. </p><p>Maybe Ethan didn't hate him. And if he did, Benji would let him finish the job. That was the least he could do for him, his last gift. </p><p>He loved him too much to be scared. He hated himself too much to be scared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so sorry for the delay!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji walked through the rain, over the cracks of the broken sidewalk and the few shards of glass catching the cold white light of the streetlamp, around bags of thrash spilling their content into the black, dirty water swelling down the gutter. A miserable place, a place someone could disappear from without anyone noticing. Not the tired old woman at the counter, selling bus tickets and wishing she were anywhere else, not the people sleeping on banks, huddling closer to the walls to try avoiding the cold, who had long since learned it was better to see nothing, hear nothing. Not the workers, coming on and off the buses, too exhausted to consider anything but the constant struggle to avoid joining the men and women spending the night under the poor shelter of the run-down station. </p>
<p>He'd been there three days, and there were no signs of Ethan. Maybe he'd disappeared already.</p>
<p>Maybe he'd disappear, too.</p>
<p>He sat down on a cold plastic chair, looking at the last bus leaving before the night. He was tired. He hadn't slept for more than an hour at a time since he'd left Luther's. He told himself it was because he had to find Ethan, find him now, before that horrible, prescient feeling came to be. But, nagging at the back of his head, was the truth. He didn't want to close his eyes, because he didn't know what he'd see, then. Or maybe he should. Maybe he should remind exactly what he was looking for. </p>
<p>He stared at the blinding light on the ceiling until dark spots started to swim before his eyes.</p>
<p>All that mattered was that he find Ethan. </p>
<p>What came afterwards didn't. </p>
<p>He wanted to be with Ethan. He'd become so accustomed to missing him that the pain felt like its very own limb, ugly and twisted and draining all of his being until there was nothing else left of him. He'd taken strength into that pain, used it to fuel his revenge, to keep him standing up every morning. But he was too tired for that, now. He just wanted to be with Ethan. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Five houses on this street. Benji broke the door of the first one.</p>
<p>Ethan had called from the bus station. If he'd stayed, he wouldn't have gone far, looking for a place to hide without attracting attention and close to an escape route. Which meant about every street, around here. The last recession hadn't been kind to the town, and Benji had counted more abandoned houses than occupied one.</p>
<p>A sleeping bag, empty. Some trash. No one there. He left, not bothering to close the door  behind him.</p>
<p>Four houses. This one had had its windows and door cemented shut. He kept walking.</p>
<p>His phone rang, for the fifth time since the morning. He didn't need to look at the screen to know it was Luther. He didn't pick up this time either.</p>
<p>Three houses. A child ran through its door, saw him and went back inside, screaming. Benji didn't ask if they were supposed to be there. </p>
<p>What would he even tell Luther? That he was sorry for leaving again? That Luther was a better friend than he deserved? That he wasn't coming back, not without  Ethan?</p>
<p>Two houses. This one was charred, door and window frames blackened by flames. He stepped in. The ceiling had collapsed, as had the roof. The sky was bright white through the debris, clouds twisted in strange, enormous shape by the wind, far above the ground. It was going to rain again, he thought.</p>
<p>They had been happy. They could have been happy. They'd trusted each other and cared for each other and loved each other. Even if it had never been said, not until Ayraud with all her malice had torn it out of them both. Not until he'd found him in that dark cell and said it again, before he'd understood how much of a fool he'd been to hope that it wasn't too late. That he wasn't too late.</p>
<p>One house. He went through each room, carefully. Contemplated the remains of what had been a family's home, moldy wallpaper with a roses pattern, out of fashion since before he'd been born, an abandoned sofa with a single crocheted cushion. Bedrooms where you could still see the places on the walls that had borne picture frames, a bathroom with cracked tiles and water pooling in the tub. </p>
<p>Empty. </p>
<p>He wanted to cry. He wanted to sit down and never get up again, in that forgotten house in a forgotten street. Maybe he could disappear, too.</p>
<p>He left. </p>
<p>The wind was brisk on his face, cold and so strong it hurt, just a little. One street less. It was all it was. Benji traced his steps back, wrapping his coat closer to his body, and stepped onto the crossing.</p>
<p>He froze in the middle of the street, a truck's horn blaring at him to move, to get out the way. </p>
<p>The first house's door was closed again.</p>
<p>This time, he forced the lock of the kitchen window, as quietly as he could, blood loud as thunder in his ears. The floorboards above creaked as he tiptoed through the kitchen, telling himself all the reasons why this wasn't Ethan. It was a homeless guy he'd scared. It was the children from before. Anyone. It could be anyone. He took a breath and dug his nails into his palm. He walked up the stairs.</p>
<p>The click of a gun's safety echoed through the silence. He turned.</p>
<p>It was Ethan. </p>
<p>Haggard like he hadn't slept for a week, and hadn't eaten for even longer. His eyes were red and hollow, sunken in his too thin face, darting from Benji to the stairs and back again in a flicker, calculating his chances of escape. He looked worse than he had in that cell.</p>
<p>And he was pointing a gun at him.</p>
<p>It was alright. Benji had expected this. He closed his eyes, and waited for it to be over. Third time's the charm, wasn't that the phrase?</p>
<p>"Your fingers," Ethan said. His voice was hoarse.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Your fingers. Light them up."</p>
<p>Benji complied, filling the decrepit hallway with a warm, yellow glow. Now, he could see how pale Ethan was. Pale as a corpse. </p>
<p>Ethan collapsed against the wall, pressing his back against it as if it were the only thing holding up.</p>
<p>"You need to leave."</p>
<p>"I can't do that, Ethan."</p>
<p>He'd found him. He didn't understand, he didn't care. He didn't know what would happen. He'd found Ethan. He couldn't leave him again.</p>
<p>"I hurt you."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>But he didn't care, either. Because no amount of pain could be worse than the one of losing him. Ethan could beat him again, break his bones and mar his skin with bruises every day of what life he had left, and it still wouldn't be worse. He still wouldn't leave.</p>
<p>"I nearly... I nearly killed you." Ethan's voice trembled.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>And he'd deserved it. He'd deserved more.</p>
<p>The gun slipped out of Ethan's hand.</p>
<p>"I betrayed you."</p>
<p>Benji frowned.</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>Benji had  no doubt Ayraud would have thrown it in his face if he'd said anything. And Ethan would never have betrayed him, no matter how much he should have.</p>
<p>Ethan fell to the floor, his knees folded against his chest.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated, over and over again. </p>
<p>Benji walked up to him, slowly, and kneeled by his side. He laid a hand on his arm, barely brushing the fabric. Ethan flinched, drawing his arms closer around his knees. </p>
<p>"He looked like you," Ethan said, as if the words had been ripped from his chest.</p>
<p>"I thought it was you. I was stupid, so stupid."</p>
<p>Benji felt a white emptiness that felt like rage rise through his body.</p>
<p>"I was so sure you'd come for me. I knew you wouldn't leave me there, that you'd find me. I didn't even question it. I just followed him. I was so happy," he said, with a smile that wasn't one. </p>
<p>"I told him..." a sob broke his voice. "I told him I loved him."</p>
<p>Benji closed his eyes.</p>
<p>"He said it, too. I let him kiss me. I let him..."</p>
<p>Ethan couldn't finish.</p>
<p>Benji wanted to take him in his arms. He didn't.</p>
<p>"And then I started noticing all the things that were wrong. How he took his tea with sugar, but you didn't. How he didn't really look me in the eyes, or when he did they were just as blue as yours, but so cold. And I thought that it was just me, that maybe I was wrong."</p>
<p>"You're not wrong," Benji said. </p>
<p>Ethan went on, as if he hadn't heard him.</p>
<p>"He asked me all of those things, things that you should have known. Not at once, just over time. And I started getting scared. I felt like I was going insane. He made me think I was going insane."</p>
<p>He stopped speaking. Looking at the obscurity, where the light from Benji's fingers couldn't reach. Trapped in memories Benji couldn't begin to understand.</p>
<p>"I tried to run. After a while. They caught me before I'd left the street," he said.</p>
<p>He didn't sound bitter as much as empty.</p>
<p>"That's why you need to leave," Ethan said, automatically.</p>
<p>"I'll leave, I promise. But please, let me call you Luther. He'll look after you," Benji answered. He didn't think. There was nothing to think about.</p>
<p>Ethan nodded, wordlessly. He looked more exhausted than Benji had ever seen him.</p>
<p>Ethan needed peace. He needed to be safe, to feel safe. Benji would do anything to give him that.</p>
<p>Even leave. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Benji woke up in a haze. It was light already outside, and the traffic was loud through the thin walls of his flat. A siren echoed through the street, wailing louder and higher, before fading away. A fire, a death? Benji wondered. A tragedy, maybe, somewhere.</p><p>He looked at the white wall. He hadn't slept, not until the early morning, and the headache already thumping at his temples would only rise throughout the day. Those days, everything eluded his grasp. Books slipped from his fingers after he'd read the same sentence five time without catching even a hint of its essence. Movies passed by, just noise that he couldn't follow as he kept trying to find a semblance of stimulation on his phone, switching from the three or four same apps and website, hoping for new content. Verdi was too loud, and so was Puccini. Bach, maybe, or Monteverdi. If he could get up, that was.</p><p>He closed his eyes again, hoping for sleep to swallow him, even if just for a few minutes more. What was there to do, after all? He'd found Ethan. Ethan was safe, with Luther. He wasn't alone. There was nothing left for him to do. Nothing but keep away, no matter how much he desperately longed to see Ethan, to listen to the sound of his voice. To make sure his eyes were even just a little less haunted, less empty. To forget how pale, how thin he'd been. To tell him he loved him, still.</p><p>He shook himself up, and walked to the bathroom, avoiding piles of cartons he'd not bothered unpacking. He let the water run over him, so cold it was nearly painful. How could he be so selfish? Ethan had been clear. I need you to leave. He could still hear his voice, robotic, not cruel but ineluctable. He should be happy. Ethan had given him one last mission, one last purpose. Stay away. He could do that.</p><p>He could do that.</p><p>He ate food he didn't taste, swallowed a couple of aspirin, and sat on the sofa, remote in hand. What had he dreamed of, that night? Ayraud. Again. He didn't remember much else than her smile, and the smell of blood, bodies he wasn't sure if he'd killed or failed to save.</p><p>He closed his eyes, listening to the deafening silence of his empty flat. Ethan had said enough. Where was the person who'd done this to him? What would Benji do to them, if he found them? Nausea rose through him again, images he tried to chase away.</p><p>He couldn't stay, couldn't bear it anymore.</p><p>What were his options? He could go back to Luther, tell him how sorry he was. Tell him about the dreams, maybe. No. He couldn't. He could go home, visit cousins he hadn't seen in years, with children he'd never met. A wry chuckle escaped him. He'd like to see their face if he showed up at their doorstep. His last boyfriend had dumped him four years ago, after a few month of an uninterested relationship, telling him he shouldn't have wasted his time with someone who was so hung up on somebody else. He didn't have friend outside the IMF. He hadn't needed them. And he'd abandonned the one in the IMF, disappeared without a word. Had Luther told Ilsa what had happened? He probably would have. She'd know just how much he'd failed. How much he'd failed Ethan.</p><p>There was a gun in his bedside table. Loaded, as it always was.</p><p>No.</p><p>He got up, and grabbed his phone.</p><p>In the end, he didn't even have to beg too much for his job back. The IMF must have been out of personnel to be that unfussy, given how he'd parted from them. He got a strict order to present himself at the HQ on Monday, a cold goodbye, and a reminder not to be late. A sarcastic one. He wondered who'd been at the other end of the line.</p><p>That left him two days. On Saturday, he packed the few clothes he'd bothered to take out of the cartons, set up his accounts in case he stayed away for long, after arguing with his bank that he was, in fact, not dead. Cleaned his flat, Lohengrin blasting so loud that he could barely hear the vacuum. Well, the neighbors hadn't complained. He slept fitfully that night, going from one unformed nightmare to the other. Not the worse he'd had. He tried remembering the last time he'd slept well. Was it that night on the sofa, in Ethan's arms, before Ayraud had stolen their lives away? He knew he'd been happy, that night. But he couldn't recall what that had felt like.</p><p>He got out of the bed to realize that he'd done everything he had to before leaving. At one time, he'd have been delighted to have a day to himself. Maybe he'd have invited Ethan over, if he felt especially brave. Cooked something together, decided to watch a movie, then instead spent the evening chatting away. Cursed their inability to watch anything, promised to do better next time. Or gone out with Ethan and Ilsa, dragging Luther along for a few beers and jokes about their last missions.</p><p>Luther.</p><p>He had to tell him he was leaving. He was lucky enough that he'd forgiven him for leaving without a word three times, and he didn't want to dare another. He owed him, too. For what he'd done for him, for what he'd done for Ethan.</p><p>With a sigh, he typed his number, put the call on loudspeaker so he didn't have to hold it.</p><p>"Benji? Everything alright?"</p><p>"Yeah. Sure. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm leaving."</p><p>There was a blank.</p><p>"Leaving? Where?" Before Benji could answer, he went on. "Come by later today. I want to see your face."</p><p>"What about Ethan? I can't..."</p><p>"Don't worry about Ethan. Just come home."</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"Trust me, alright?"</p><p>"Yes. Of course. See you later, then," Benji answered, hesitantly.</p><p>"And, Benji?"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"If you'd left without saying goodbye, I would have hunted you down, even if it would have killed me," Luther said, before hanging up.</p><p>Benji smiled. He'd been right to be worried.</p><p>***</p><p>Benji showed up at Luther's one hour later, carrying a bag of pastries from the shop near the IMF HQ. A few danishes, croissants, and those cinnamon rolls Ethan liked. He jumped up the few steps leading to the door, rang the doorbell, and started nervously humming a few bars of Elektra. He stopped himself. He had no reason to be nervous. Luther had said it would be fine. Maybe Ethan was staying somewhere else?</p><p>"Benji. Come on in," Luther said, pulling him into a hug.</p><p>Benji followed him into the living room, looking around for signs of Ethan.</p><p>"Where's..."</p><p>"Do you want something to drink?" Luther interrupted him.</p><p>"Cup of tea would be great. I brought those," he said, showing him the paper bag.</p><p>"Did you get danishes?"</p><p>"Course I did. I haven't been gone that long, you know," Benji smiled.</p><p>Luther huffed. Was that all the trust he had in him? Well, it was probably fair.</p><p>A few minutes later, they both had fuming cups of tea in front of them, and markedly less pastries than he'd arrived with. Benji tapped his fingers on his mug, sparks of light escaping them each time.</p><p>"How's Ethan?" he asked, carefully.</p><p>"How do you think he is?"</p><p>Benji shrank into his chair.</p><p>"Don't. It wasn't your fault. He's better than he was a month ago, but... " Luther sighed. "That woman. You killed her?"</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>"Good."</p><p>Luther took a gulp of tea, and sighed.</p><p>"You're leaving, then?"</p><p>"Back to the field. I don't know why they let me come back, but I have to be at HQ tomorrow morning."</p><p>"Are you sure you want to do this?"</p><p>"What else is there for me to do?" Benji answered, nearly cutting Luther off.</p><p>"Thank you. For everything. For looking after me. And for Ethan. I owe you more than I..."</p><p>"You don't owe me anything. This is goodbye, then?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Are you going to tell Ethan that you're leaving?"</p><p>Benji took a deep breath.</p><p>"Tell him that... Just tell him that I won't bother him again. That I wish him all the peace he can find."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"I'm sorry?"</p><p>"As I told Ethan back when you were here, I'm not a messenger pigeon. You want to tell him that, you tell him yourself."</p><p>"He doesn't want to see me."</p><p>"He'll want to hear that you're leaving from you," Luther said, more softly. "He's upstairs. Go to him."</p><p>Benji stood up, pushed the chair back under the table.</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"Yes. And take those," Luther said. "You got them for him, didn't you?"</p><p>Benji exhaled, trying to quiet the voice in his head, screaming that it was a terrible idea, that he'd only hurt Ethan more. He trusted Luther. Grabbing the plate with the cinnamon buns, he walked up the stair, until he reached the door of Luther's only guestroom. He raised his fist, about to knock, before he remembered to light his fingers.</p><p>He knocked softly. Ethan opened the door barely a second later.</p><p>"Hi, Ethan," he said, showing him the plate. The light from his fingers was reflecting on the white porcelain.</p><p>"Benji."</p><p>For a few instants, Ethan just stared at him. He was looking healthier, at least, less famished, less pale. His hair had been trimmed, and he had a blanket draped around his shoulders.</p><p>"Are you cold?" Benji asked?</p><p>"What? Ah, yes. A little bit. It's just nice to have something to wrap yourself in, you know."</p><p>Benji tried to chase the image of Ethan, half naked, chained to the wall of that cell.</p><p>"Come on in. Sorry, I don't know why I'm that distracted," Ethan said, showing him to the one chair in the room, while he settled on the windowsill.</p><p>"I'm sorry for showing up like that."</p><p>"Don't be. Luther told me you were coming."</p><p>Ethan smiled.</p><p>"But he didn't say you would be bringing food. Are those from Hector's?" Ethan asked, grabbing a cinnabon rolls and biting into it.</p><p>"Yes!"</p><p>"Do you remember that time you dropped your gun on the till when you got your wallet?"</p><p>Benji groaned.</p><p>"Don't remind me of that. I had to convince him I was undercover for the FBI, and I think he's been afraid of me since."</p><p>Ethan smiled, before looking at his feet.</p><p>"Sorry. I've been thinking a lot recently. About how things were, before."</p><p>"Is it ok that I'm here? Luther said it was, but..."</p><p>"It's ok, Benji."</p><p>"I... Thank you. Ethan, I know it's hard for you to see me. I don't blame you, after what happened."</p><p>Ethan frowned, and Benji tried to gather his thoughts. What could he tell him? Nothing would change the hell that the past few months had been, not for him and certainly not for Ethan. There was no going back, no miracle to give him the chance to do it right this time. Nothing else than to live with the consequences.</p><p>"I want you to know that it's alright," he said, finally.</p><p>Ethan let out a small, bitter laugh.</p><p>"What is alright, exactly?"</p><p>"No, I mean... Sorry. Of course it's not alright." He kicked himself.</p><p>"What I wanted to say is that it's alright if you don't want to see me again. I'm leaving, actually. Tomorrow. Going back into the field, so you won't have to worry about seeing my ugly old face too often."</p><p>Relief. That was all he felt. Ethan would be free. He'd be safe. He wanted to cry, and he didn't know why.</p><p>"You can't leave."</p><p>Etha's eyes were wide open, his face tense with dismay. Benji opened his mouth, and closed it again. Before he could say anything, Ethan's face fell.</p><p>"I'm sorry. Of course you can leave."</p><p>Ethan let himself fall on the chair by the bed, and hid his face into his hands.</p><p>"Ethan, I... I don't understand."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Ethan repeated. "I just thought..."</p><p>He let out a dry chuckle.</p><p>"I just thought that I couldn't let you go back alone. That if I was with you, I could protect you. But we both know that I can't do that."</p><p>"You saved my life, Ethan."</p><p>"I couldn't stop them. I couldn't stop her. I betrayed you. You're right. You should leave. You're..."</p><p>Ethan stopped.</p><p>"I'm what?"</p><p>"You're better off without me," he finished.</p><p>His voice was firm, without a hint of doubt. Benji sat down at the feet of the bed.</p><p>Ethan wanted him gone.</p><p>Ethan wanted him gone, for his own sake.</p><p>A bolt of pain flashed through Benji's heart. When had Ethan ever looked after himself first?

</p><p>"I'm not," he said, simply.</p><p>Ethan looked at him</p><p>"I'm not better off without you. I'm not leaving because I don't miss you every single hour of the day. I'm not leaving because I think you're any less the bravest, kindest person that I've met. I'm not leaving because I stopped loving you."</p><p>Ethan shuddered. He wasn't breathing, as if any single move could reveal that it wasn't true, that Benji did believe that he deserved his scorn.</p><p>"I'm leaving because you deserve to have peace. It was my fault, all of it. And you paid for it. You shouldn't have to deal with me, constantly reminding you of that."</p><p>He didn't know why, but those words seemed to reach Ethan through his daze. He turned towards him, his eyes firmly staring into his own.</p><p>"I never blamed you, Benji."</p><p>Benji shut his eye, so tight that bright spots flew by his eyelids. It couldn't be true. It was his fault. He'd been too late, too weak. He'd abandoned Ethan. He'd...</p><p>"Benji, look at me," Ethan said, softly.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, Ethan was kneeling in front of him. Very gently, he laid a hand on his knee, and raised to other to his face, barely brushing his beard with his fingertips.</p><p>"I never blamed you," he said, again.</p><p>A sob escaped Benji. Ethan pressed their forehead together, his hand warm against the nape of his neck. Benji fell to the floor, his legs folded underneath him. Into Ethan's arms.</p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated like an incantation into Ethan's ear. Ethan only held him tighter.</p><p>Ethan pulled back. His cheeks were shining with tears that Benji hadn't even felt.</p><p>"I love you, Benji."</p><p>Benji's shoulder shook.</p><p>"Thinking of you, out there, safe, was the only thing that kept me alive. I never forgot. All those moments... We were happy, for a while."</p><p>Ethan's eyes were warm with memories. Smiles that he'd never forgotten, laughs that he could still hear. Love that wasn't gone, not yet. For an instant, Benji could believe.</p><p>"Would you..." Benji said, before his voice broke. "Would you like to try again? I know that it may be naive, that we can't just pretend that it didn't happen. But I want to believe... I want to believe it's not too late."</p><p>It was stupid. Of course it was too late. How could it not be?</p><p>"It's not too late."</p><p>The words echoed through Benji's skull, but he couldn't make sense of them. He just held onto Ethan.</p><p>***</p><p>When the sun rose the next morning, they were still holding each other. </p><p>"I'm not leaving," Benji said.</p><p>"Are you sure?" Ethan answered, his voice heavy with sleep.</p><p>"More than anything."</p><p>Ethan pulled him even closer.</p><p>Every instant spent in Ethan's arms made Benji believe it was real just a little more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much to everyone still hanging on. It means a lot to me</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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